


The Simple Life

by Seeroftodayandtomorrow



Category: Glee
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, References to Canonical Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeroftodayandtomorrow/pseuds/Seeroftodayandtomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if your soulmate is the one person you can't allow yourself to love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This story, like many stories, begins with two things: a city, and a woman. The city is, of course, New York. To find the woman -and oh, what a woman that is! - you have to go all the way to Manhattan, to the Great White Way, to the place where dreams come true. In a small Broadway theater that advertises 'Funny Girl' in bold, proud letters, you can find, if you arrive at the right time, in a dressing room upstairs, the star of the show: diva extraordinaire, Rachel Berry. Rachel is the woman you came to find. Although this story isn't about her, you need her to find those we are really looking for.

Rachel is probably sitting at her dresser. Depending on when you arrive, she may be wearing a bob-cut wig; her real hair is much longer, though it is of the same, rich brown color. She is not exactly pretty, but certainly attractive, she is petite, but has a lot of personality to make up for it. You should talk to her, if you want – though maybe you should have remembered to buy some flowers. Compliment her on her performance. It doesn't even matter if you have seen the show; she is always good, and knows it, accepting compliments graciously but naturally as her birthright.

Be nice to her. She doesn't only demand it, she deserves it, and she is one of the loneliest persons you will ever know. The soulmark on the inside of her left arm, this little mark made up of the letters F, C and H, is black, and although she had a little heart tattooed around it, it will never be the same. She had been one of the lucky ones who had met her soulmate early in life. She had had her mark for only a few months when the quarterback of her high school football team had touched her arm and both of them felt a sharp, burning pain when their marks, hers, and his with the letters RBB, had turned red, indicating that they had connected with their soulmates. Rachel's promise of forever had started then, and for her taste, the future couldn't come fast enough. She had been engaged by eighteen, married by nineteen, and a widow by twenty.

She is twenty-three now, and she has decided, despite everything, to try to be happy.

It is now time for you to leave. Follow me; you can wait outside to get her autograph, if you want, although you don't have to wait in the crowd to do that. You're with me, I can get you anywhere. When she leaves, you should follow her. You are lucky today, she is not going straight home, but meets someone for a very late dinner. It would be too early for you to go to her home, even if she can't see you if you don't want her to. Anyway, you wouldn't be able to meet the person you want to meet if she was going home.

Follow her through the well-lit New York streets as she walks to the restaurant. Be quiet now, you don't want to be heard. It's time to watch and listen now, but don't worry, I won't let her see you.

The person Rachel is meeting here is one of the reasons she still, in spite of everything that happened, feels lucky. She is very successful in her career, and playing the role of her dreams at such a young age still sometimes seems unreal to her, although she knows she is more than talented enough to deserve it. But the person who has always been there for her, who helped her through the elation and heartbreak of love and through the ups and downs of a cutthroat industry, is sitting at a table waiting for her. It is a young man of almost ethereal beauty, with elaborate clothes and immaculately styled hair. He is sipping from a glass of white wine, but smiles warmly when he sees her.

Look at them. Don't be shy, they can't see you. You can come a little closer. Can you see them? Can you see how much they enjoy each other's company? There is familiarity between them, and a lot of love, but no spark, no romantic attraction. You can see they are not a couple. Rachel wouldn't be ready for that anyway, not so soon after losing her soulmate, even though she would have no difficulties finding a lover who was, perhaps, in a similar situation as her, or simply tired of waiting to connect.

As for the young man, her friend – he has a different reason for only being her friend – for only ever being a friend to any woman at all. You have probably guessed it. The young man – his name is Kurt – is gay. Somewhere, or more accurately, at a party in a building only a few blocks away, there is another man with Kurt's initials in his soulmark. Just, please, don't tell anyone. I know I can trust you with Kurt's secret – although it isn't really a secret. Some people know. Two, in fact, apart from me and now, you. A lot of other people suspect. Kurt is not exactly out of the closet, but he's not really in it, either.

Kurt is in the public eye a lot. Not for his own sake – he is a junior designer in a small fashion label who has the potential of one day becoming a big name, but is not there yet. But Kurt's father, Burt Hummel, is a candidate for the post of Ohio State senator, and all of his movements, his words and his connections, are closely observed, scrutinized, and gossiped about. And Kurt – Kurt loves his father more than anybody else in the world. Even more than that, he believes he is a good man who could really make a change in the world. He wants him to succeed, he wants nothing more than to see his father become senator.

And so, Kurt is careful. He doesn't tell people he's gay. He doesn't go to bars, he doesn't get drunk, he doesn't hook up. Over the years, as his father slowly rose through the political ranks, he has become used to being his own severest critic. Before he does something, he asks himself, how will this be seen? Will the way I act affect my, and thus my father's, reputation? And no, before you ask, Kurt's father doesn't want him to do this. He has asked Kurt, many times, to not waste his youth watching his every move. He has insisted, in fact, that Kurt at least choose a career path that could make him happy, even if it might be seen as 'gay' by some. He is an active fighter for gay rights, and he has made Kurt swear that he would never outright deny being gay.

So Kurt just hopes he won't be asked directly. There are rumors, but he ignores them. He is not ashamed of himself, but he knows, all too well, the way some people in Ohio still see anything out of the ordinary, and he doesn't want to influence them against his father. To avoid questions, he rarely leaves his house. He goes to work, and he meets with Rachel once or twice a week, and that's it. And yes, he, too, is desperately lonely.

They have now gotten over saying hello and ordering their food, and we should be quiet and listen to them talking.

“I need a favor,” Rachel says, and you should know that although she really needs him to do this for her, she also thinks he should do it for himself. Rachel is a demanding friend, but she also honestly loves Kurt. He is the most important person in her life right now, and she wants him to be happy. Kurt, a little wary, asks what she needs him to do. He is used to her, but despite everything he gives up for his father, he is no one who lets you walk all over him. He will probably give in to Rachel after a little persuasion, but only if what she wants is reasonable and within limitations he set himself.

“There's this party next weekend,” Rachel says cautiously; she knows he will protest. “It could be really important, all the right people will be there. I could make a lot of useful connections – so could you, for that matter! - but I can't go there alone. Please, Kurt?”

“Rachel,” Kurt says with the expression of a mother who has told her toddler the same thing about three hundred times. “You know I don't do parties.”

But Rachel knows him. She wouldn't just ask him to any party. “It's really small and exclusive, it's invitation-only, there's no press allowed inside, and you wouldn't even have to drink.”

Kurt stares at her, clearly thinking of any reason to decline. “...You're paying for the cab,” he says, knowing it's a weak retort.

“I'm paying for the cab,” Rachel confirms, quickly hiding her triumphant smile.

Let us leave them alone. They will go home soon, anyway. Kurt has work tomorrow, and on the nights he meets Rachel, he goes with much less sleep than he would like to.

 

It's late. Are you very tired? I could let you go home, if you want to, but if you're up to it, you should meet one other person, and he is best met at night. It is, in fact, early for him to go home, but we're in luck – there he is.

He is dressed in black and red, there is glitter in his hair, and his eyeliner is a little smudged. He is walking a little too careful, but only a very attentive eye can see that he is drunk, and not only a little. But he is used to it, and so he doesn't stagger, and he doesn't slur when he's talking. You shouldn't talk to him, though. Oh, he will be charming if you do, and if you didn't have me to tell you, you probably wouldn't know something's wrong. But there is so, so much wrong with him, and he is just beginning to realize that himself. That's the reason he left the party early today, and that's the reason we should leave him alone. He deserves a little peace and quiet, a little silence to hear his own thoughts, and he very rarely has the opportunity.

You see? It's already over. Two girls have spotted him, and they giggle excitedly and come over to talk to him and get his autograph and take a picture, and he's smiling at them and complimenting them and asking their names. And they don't see – but you do, don't you? - that his smile is too bright and doesn't reach his eyes, and that it is, in fact, only the alcohol in his blood that keeps him upright and doing his duty.

The girls leave, and you can see the mask fall away from his face as he slowly makes his way home, where he will sleep his hangover away until afternoon and then, tomorrow night, go to another benefit or fundraiser and sing, talk and smile, and drink, drink, drink.

His name is Blaine Anderson, he is a singer well on his way to becoming a star, and he is – you have guessed it - Kurt Hummel's soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

Are you sure you want to wear this? We _are_ going to a party, you know, even if we're not invited and nobody is going to see us. I could wait while you change – no? Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter much.

Kurt and Rachel, anyway, are dressed to the nines, both of them, of course, in Kurt Hummel originals that will be the subject of much praise in the course of the evening. But Kurt, at least at the moment, is not in the mood to appreciate the way this party could benefit his career, because Rachel has, wisely at the last moment when he can't back out anymore, decided to tell him about one other expected guest.

“You could have told me that Blaine Anderson was going to be there,” Kurt says, burying his face in his hands. He's being a little dramatic now; he really doesn't know how he feels about Blaine Anderson being there, as little as he knows how he feels about Blaine Anderson in general. He doesn't know him, not really. What he knows is that Blaine Anderson is openly and at times flamboyantly homosexual; he goes to events wearing tight black pants and a red, feathery jacket that, in Kurt's opinion, looks like a few Muppets have had to die for (as CC would say), but he pulls it off. He knows that, after one of Blaine's rare out-of-town performances, an Ohioan Republican had written,”Is this what the world is going to look like when gay-friendly politicians like Burt Hummel are granted their wishes?” He knows that Blaine Anderson is just – too much.

He knows that he desperately, desperately envies him.

Blaine Anderson is a lot of what he aspires to be – openly, _proudly_ , gay. Political about it. Although he could 'pass' as straight better than Kurt ever has, he doesn't try to, never has. Blaine Anderson is honest, charming, friendly, a great performer. He is also a threat to everything Kurt believes in, everything he has given up so much for.

Kurt claims to find him trashy. Oh, he grudgingly admits that his music isn't bad and that he's talented, but he likes to call him too loud, too shrill, too much.

All of that is true, but it is also a lot easier than to try to find words for the envy, the admiration, the fear that he also has for Blaine Anderson. And isn't it strange that he has so many feelings about a man he has never met and whose life he only casually follows because it always seemed probable that he would meet him some day?

But Kurt doesn't want to think about Blaine Anderson anymore. He has been dragged here; now he is determined to enjoy it. He might even have a drink or two, though of course not enough to get drunk. This isn't the right place to get drunk anyway, even if he wanted to, not at such an upscale party with overpriced cocktails and champagne as options.

We're here now. This is it. Oh look, there's actually a red carpet, and a lot of press people around it. They're not allowed inside, so they're making the most of the arrival of the celebrities, would-bes and plus-ones on the guest list. We can watch for a while, but we should go inside before there's too much of a crowd.

Rachel's and Kurt's arrival doesn't cause a big buzz. Rachel is very much on her way to being famous, but she isn't yet, as only Broadway aficionados know her name or her face. Kurt is completely unknown, except as the son of Burt Hummel, the politician. One reporter, however, asks Rachel about the man by her side, and if you look closely, you can see the fear in his eyes. For a moment he looks like a deer in headlights, but when Rachel just answers,

“This is my friend Kurt Hummel, who has designed the gorgeous dress I'm wearing,” (because that's what she does, you know. She is demanding, but also very generous, and she doesn't mind sharing her fame) he relaxes, and his smile is only a little forced. As they make their way to the entrance, he keeps smiling, and although most observers can immediately see that this isn't his comfort zone, he doesn't look too bad. But look how he is clutching Rachel's hand, like she's his lifeline. He is forcing himself not to run away. Soon, he fears, soon someone will make the connection between Kurt Hummel, friend of Rachel Berry and fashion designer, and Kurt Hummel, son of the Ohio senate candidate. And then the questions will start. _Why are you here with Rachel Berry? Is she your girlfriend?_

And he knows his heart will clench fearfully, and he will want to say yes, but he can't, he has promised his dad.

But they're close to the entrance now; Kurt's near-panic subsides when bigger names arrive behind them and the reporters' attention turns to those.

Kurt and Rachel go inside, but we should stay a bit. It's worth the wait to see Blaine Anderson arrive. A lot of teenagers think the same. Girls and boys, gay and straight alike, stand behind the bars, excitedly practicing their screaming every now and then even though he isn't here yet. The more conceited or more delusional among the arriving celebrities wave at the small crowd, and some are asked for autographs or photos, but it's more to pass the time. The man they are really here to see is Blaine Anderson.

And look, there he is! He climbs out of a town car, and his feet have scarcely hit the ground when he starts smiling radiantly and waving at the screaming fans that are waiting for him. He walks up to them, kisses cheeks, signs things, has photos taken. The other guests file past him; he will be outside a while.

There are moments when you can see that he genuinely loves the people who have come here for him, and you can imagine that there was a time, not all too long ago, when he loved what he was doing, when he considered himself to be immensely lucky that he could earn his living with something he was passionate about, and touch so many lives doing it. He couldn't even start to tell you when that changed. He still loves making music, and he still loves his fans. But at some point, it seemed to be not so much about the music anymore as about keeping up appearances, he started compromising, was told he had to, did what he was told. Still does. The music he writes is not the music he wants to write anymore, it's the music that will sell. The people he has to touch, to impress, are not his fans – it's the producers, the sponsors, the big names of the business. Sometimes – often – Blaine wishes himself back to the times when he used to play in bars and busk on streets. He didn't have any money then, but he was more honest, everything was more honest. But he doesn't know how to go back there, and he feels guilty when he wishes for it. He has made it, hasn't he? He has achieved what others only dream of. So he drifts in his unhappiness, and does nothing.

But for now, he revels in these few minutes he has to really do what he likes. All too soon, security signals him, and he takes a few more pictures just to annoy them, then he waves apologetically at his fans and goes inside.

We should go, too. We can go inside, just like that; no, they won't see us. Blaine will sing, probably, although it isn't officially scheduled, but he often does in the course of an evening. Someone will ask him to do it, and he takes it as a three-minute respite from the schmoozing and hand-shaking and ass-kissing he does the rest of the time. He will be drunk by then, because that's the only way he can go through an evening like this without going crazy, but no one will notice. No one but you and me, and – Kurt.

Kurt has spent the evening at Rachel's side, standing in a circle with people she talks to, smiling a little awkwardly. Sometimes someone asks him about the clothes he makes, and then he answers, and his smile becomes genuine and lively. But he isn't made for all that small talk going on here that, ultimately, serves one purpose: asking, covertly, what someone can do for you, in what way they can help you, promote you, hoist you up another rung on the career ladder. This isn't for him, and although he hopes he'll make it big enough one day to be invited to parties like this in his own right, he isn't sure it ever will be.

He's not miserable, though. He is, in a very upscale, glamorous way, bored. He amuses himself by watching Blaine Anderson, who confirms every prejudice he might have about him by wearing a suit with sequins and glittery nail polish. Kurt marvels quietly. How can this man, no matter how outrageous his clothes, always look so good? He can't deny, however, that no matter how big his smile or how seemingly engaged in conversation he is, Blaine doesn't look happy. Kurt scoffs inwardly. It is well known that Blaine loves parties. He is at some event or other every second evening; if Kurt, to whom all of this is new, is bored out of his mind by now, it must be hell for Blaine. Maybe stay at home for a night?

As he watches, he notices the amount of alcohol Blaine downs in a very casual, inconspicuous way, and he is torn between detesting him just a little more and wanting to take the glass out of his hand, take him home and tuck him into bed. But then Blaine is requested to sing, and as he jumps up the little stage and grabs the microphone, he...transforms. There is no other word for it. Suddenly, the underlying sadness and general contempt in his eyes disappear, overshadowed by energy and joy.

Listen now. It's worth it, really. He sings one of his older songs, an energetic, upbeat song, and there is so much passion in it that he seems to forget about everything else. He certainly forgets about his audience, which is used to listening to piano jazz and Beethoven and is mostly unimpressed and a little irritated by this strange, loud, passionate music that interrupts their important conversations.

Not all of them, though. Can you tear yourself away for a moment and look at Kurt? He is standing close to the stage, and he is...mesmerized, staring, his mouth slightly open, with a smile that grows bigger by the second.

Blaine is aware of the general lack of enthusiasm in his audience and knows he has chosen the wrong song for this occasion. He usually doesn't do this; his ability to read an audience is one of his greatest assets as a performer. But today, he felt like being rebellious. The whole night, he has noticed a pair of cool blue eyes watching him with a mix of scorn and pity. He doesn't blame the owner of the eyes for this unflattering view of him; he sees himself the same way. But he has wanted, the whole evening, to prove himself, to show who he really is. And he knows that these days, he is mostly himself when he sings, and he wanted to sing a song that represents that.

It hasn't been in vain, he sees when he stops singing and, panting, scans the reactions of his audience. Most applaud politely and elegantly and then resume their conversations, but the one he wanted to impress, he stands there with the sort of smile that lights up a room, the kind he hasn't shown all evening.

Blaine wants to talk to him and jumps down the stage, but, as he is, after all, pretty drunk, he lands the wrong way.

You know what happens now, don't you?

Kurt grabs Blaine's arm to keep him from falling, and a white-hot, burning pain shoots through his arm, racing towards his soul mark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has turned out much darker than I initially planned. So, warnings for: self-loathing, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts.

I know what you want to happen. You want them to stare into each other's eyes for some time, and then kiss, and be in each other's lives and love and help each other and live happily ever after.

This is not what happens.

It has a dreamlike quality. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, and every second of this encounter will be forever saved in their memories. As his hand touches Blaine's arm, Kurt feels the pain, then a fierce, all-encompassing joy. He hears Blaine's sharp intake of breath, and when he looks at him, he sees the same joy he feels in Blaine's eyes.

And then the panic sets in, and the despair. He presses his hands against his mouth, whispers, “No,” and runs. He turns away from his soulmate, jostles his way through the crowd, and outside frantically waves at the passing cabs until after a time that seems like an eternity finally one stops.

Quick, get in with him. He won't see you; no one will see you when you're with me unless you want them to. Let's go home with him, just for a moment.

  Look at him, how he unlocks his door and puts his keys away. He is outwardly calm, but when you look at his face, you can see him crumble. He wanders around the small apartment a bit, straightens a few things, takes off his jacket and carefully hangs it in the wardrobe. Then, finally he breaks; he starts crying in loud, desperate sobs, just standing there in the middle of the room until at last he falls down upon the couch, burying his face in the cushions.

We should leave him. He would not want us to see him like this; I should not have brought you here.

I'll tell you what happens, though. At some point, he calms enough to sit up a little and wipe his face, and he says something under his breath, several times. “It's just one more thing,” he says. “It's just one more thing.”

What does he mean? It all started when, in his high school glee club, he deliberately threw an audition for a competition solo because his father, then just a mechanic, had received a phone call in which is son was called a fag. Kurt somehow never stopped, since then, to give up things for his father, even though he knows that his father doesn't want this. It has grown worse since Burt Hummel went into politics, and it's a habit by now: he has given up dating, a career in the performing arts, being honest about himself. He is trying to tell himself that this is just one more of all the things he has given up, and readily, because he thinks it helps his father.

He doesn't believe himself, though. Because giving up his soulmate, if that's really what he's doing? Is _not_ just one more thing.

But how can they be together, when his soulmate is, of all people in the world, Blaine Anderson? The flamboyant, extravagant singer who more than once has served as a Republicans example for the depravity of the world? It could be the last straw, it could hurt his dad in so many ways.

So how can they be together?

But how can they not?

Already he feels the yearning, the gentle pull to be wherever Blaine is. He knows it will only get stronger in time, until it is an almost painful, unignorable strain. And some day, if he doesn't give in, it will just – stop. He won't feel anything when he hears Blaine's name, he won't think of him anymore, his soulmark will slowly fade away until it will only be a light gray circle, barely visible. And won't that be the saddest day of all?

He cries himself to sleep.

 

But what is with Blaine, you ask? Well, he feels the same things you already know about. The pain as his soulmark turns red. The joy, the kind he has never felt before. He also feels hope, in the split second that his soulmate actually looks at him, hope that maybe, with the help of this man, everything might be alright, or at least bearable. Then, when the man turns and runs away, there's, after the initial shock and surprise, a quiet resignation. Of course his soulmate doesn't want to be with him. Who would? He himself doesn't want to be with him. He loathes himself so much by now that rejection is not only no surprise for him, but the only logical reaction of others.

Still, he wants to call out after him, just to talk, maybe apologize for...everything. Anything. Being him; he doesn't really know. But then he remembers he doesn't even know the other man's name, and as he stands there, one hand reaching towards the door, a bleak, dark kind of despair settles silently in him. Trance-like, he leaves the room and goes home with the sole purpose of drinking himself to death.

We only go with him for a very short moment. He is still safe for the moment, although he is determined. He opens the bottle of expensive Scotch he saved for special occasions, and he lifts the bottle, raising a toast to no redemption. There will be no redemption for him, no second chance, no chance at all. If he is so broken that his own soulmate rejects him, there's nothing left for him. We leave him as he sits, bottle in hand, in the darkness of his messy, lonely apartment.

This isn't how you imagined this would happen, is it? The two soulmates, apart, one drifting in an uneasy sleep, with traces of tears on his cheeks, the other, fueled by a desolate, determined desperation, on his way to being too drunk to care.

But help is on its way, in the early morning, in the form of a tiny, but very angry woman who is jumping out of a cab outside Kurt's apartment. Rachel lets herself in with her own key. They used to be roommates, and since then they have used each other so often as plant-waterer, mailbox-emptier, advice-giver and shoulder to cry on it's become second nature to them, and she walks straight into his bedroom without even hesitating or wondering what she could walk in on.

Kurt has woken to the sound of his door opening, and he wearily rubs his red-rimmed eyes as she starts shouting at him without warning.

“What did you think just running away like that? Leaving me there, wondering what you were up to, and having to explain your absence? Did you - “

She interrupts herself when she sees that he has obviously been crying, and sits down on the bed and takes his hands in hers.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he, too weary and too used to her tenacity to even think of pretending, silently shakes his head, extracts his hands from hers and rolls up his shirt sleeve. She gasps when she sees the red-turned soulmark. Leaning back against the headboard, she silently hugs him and soothes him through another fit of tears before she asks, “Who is it?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

She takes some time processing this. It is ironic, and just a little funny, though she knows better than to laugh. She can also imagine the origin of her friend's misery. They have talked about it, so often, Kurt's hesitation to do things for himself out of fear of hurting his dad's career. She's on Burt's side here, she wants Kurt to be happy, and she is weary of watching him let opportunity after opportunity pass him by. She also suspects him of having another reason for living this quiet, almost hermitical life expect not wanting to give anyone an opportunity to gossip. So she won't ask him why he is so unhappy or why he isn't with his soulmate right now; she can imagine the answers, even though she doesn't like them. She asks another question, though, one she has often wanted to ask.

“You must have known that your soulmate was going to be another man, Kurt. Have you never thought of what you would do when you met him?”

Of course he has known – but the truth is that he has never really let himself think about it. He has also not exactly entertained the notion that his soulmate would be a celebrity, not to mention one so...noticeable as Blaine Anderson. All ideas he might have had about perhaps at first keeping the relationship a secret, getting to slowly know each other while he decided what to do are made invalid by the fact that there is nothing secretive about Blaine. He tells that to Rachel, and he also tells her all the other things he's been telling himself – that it's not just _a_ man, but that the real problem is that it's _that_ man. That he's not ready, that Blaine is just too much, that this could make an end to everything he has sacrificed so much for over the years.

And Rachel listens to him, and though her heart breaks for Kurt, she is also slowly getting angry. Because Kurt could have everything she can no longer have, and he pushes it away. Because he's just making excuses.

“I don't believe one word you're saying,” she tells him. “You can't seriously believe that people knowing you are gay, or even who your soulmate is, would have any effect at all on whether Burt is going to be senator or not. Sure, there'd be gossip. And those who anyway hate your dad would feel themselves confirmed in their opinion. But the people that are planning to vote for your dad – they'll vote for him anyway.”

She continues, ignoring Kurt's words of protest.

“I think you're just afraid to see what would happen if you'd crawl out of your shell. If, for once in your life, you'd actually take a risk. This is no way of living, Kurt. You have to see that it can't go on like this.”

She can be hard. She can also be unfair when she's angry, but Kurt can see that she's right. It's not that he isn't aware of what he's doing to himself when he's talking himself out of anything that could be rocking the comfortable, if very small and confining boat he's sitting in. He's just never admitted it before, not even to himself. But yes, he is scared. And there is one question he would like to ask Rachel, but he can't quite find the courage. _Was it worth it?_

At long last, Rachel can persuade Kurt to take a nap. It doesn't take too much; he hasn't slept well tonight, and he's tired. He also needs to sleep over her words, and what they mean to him.

And while he sleeps, she does something he might never forgive her. She knows that, but she sees no other way.

She calls Burt Hummel.

 

And Blaine? At some point, after several hours of determined, if unhurried drinking, he has passed out, the bottle still in his hand, the small rest of Scotch in it slowly dripping to the floor while he snores. And when he wakes up, through the haze of the worst hangover of his life (for that was a lot to drink, even for him), he has one thought: He may not be worth much. He may not deserve to be anyone's soulmate. But he does deserve an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, Kurt's excuses are exactly that: excuses. Oh, he does feel that way, make no mistake – he really feels that him being openly gay, or, worse, being together with Blaine Anderson, would hurt his father's political career. But he also knows that in time, it would wash over, and that those who vote for liberal, gay-friendly Burt Hummel will probably also vote for him if he has a gay son. Maybe even if that son's soulmate is Blaine Anderson.

Of course, there's more to all of that.

Kurt has taken a few days off. He doesn't go to work, and that means he rarely leaves the house at all. You can't meet him now, I won't take you back to his apartment. Let us leave him in peace, for a bit. At least we should do that; few enough people will.

Rachel comes to visit every day, sometimes more than once, depending how much time she finds between performances, photo shoots and interviews. She has talked to Burt, and apparently they have come up with a tactic that seems to involve having her pestering Kurt as long as it takes to bring him out of his shell, to get him to take action, any kind of action. So far, she hasn't succeeded.

Kurt spends a lot of time in his bed, alternately lying down or sitting with his arms hugging his knees, and he thinks. His own mind is pestering him at least as much as Rachel; his heart, his very soul seem to have conspired with her, against him. As he is sitting there, he imagines a string on his heart, thin but solid and unyielding, drawing him towards Blaine. And he knows he has a choice to make. He can stand up, get dressed and go looking for Blaine, and they can work it out, perhaps be together, give their bond a chance. Or he can stay here, right where he is, and let his soulmark slowly fade away, suffer through the pain and the longing and the _wrongness_ until at last Blaine will be no more to him than just another person.

Both outcomes scare him, and the worst thing is that by giving in to that fear that seems to petrify him, he is already making a choice.

He doesn't know what to do.

Blaine is in pretty much the same situation. The thoughts in his mind are of a slightly different nature, but they spin in circles all the same. He, too, has taken time off from work – although in his case, it wasn't that easy. His agent and his publicist have thrown a fit, claiming he has to stay in the spotlight or hurt his career, but for once, he is adamant. He doesn't really care about hurting his career, not anymore. Besides, he really needs the time, and the dedication, and the distraction-free environment he can only have by staying at home.

The task he sometimes sets himself is not an easy one. He wants to – he has to, really, he sometimes feels – find a man he knows nothing about, not even the name, and whom he has seen exactly once. Oh, that one time, he has watched him pretty intently. He knows what he looks like, he can describe him, could possibly have him drawn. But he can't very well put up signs to find him, especially as, he suspects, his soulmate doesn't want to be found.

He could do it, though, he has ways. The problem is, he doesn't know if he _should_ find him. He knows he can, with a little time and effort, but a part of him – a big part – believes the man, soulmate or not, is better off without him. And clearly, his soulmate believed the same, or he wouldn't have run.

Several times, Blaine talks himself in and out of looking for him, and for a time, he ends up doing nothing.

For a time, that's what both of them do.

But the gentle tug at Blaine's heart is too insistent to ignore for long, and though he doesn't believe he'll have a happy ending with his soulmate, he reminds himself that there is one thing he deserves, one thing he will have – an answer.

And Kurt? Well, I'm sure you can guess what happens, knowing about the nature of Kurt's relationship with his father and the meddling of his best friend. And you are right, of course.

Burt Hummel calls.

Kurt...doesn't really tell him anything. He knows he could, and that feeling sustains him through a lot of things. But he has early on fallen into the habit of protecting his father from things he knows would hurt him. He didn't tell him when the bullying in high school became really bad, didn't tell him how afraid he was when Burt had a heart attack. He doesn't tell him of the sacrifices he makes now, of his loneliness, the fear. Burt suspects some things, but he doesn't know a lot about it, just enough to be concerned for his son and to tell him, over and over again, not to waste his life worrying.

So Kurt doesn't tell him he met his soulmate, nor that he ran away from him. But Rachel was thorough, and so, with very little preparation, Burt congratulates Kurt on his connection in a way that clearly indicates he knows that Kurt doesn't feel like being congratulated. And Kurt, so on edge the last few days, bursts into tears. He still offers only the excuses as a reason why he probably won't see Blaine again, although there is a tiny spot in his mind where he can sense the fear that is a bigger part of the truth. But he voices this fear, that he never, ever admitted even to himself, only when his father makes an unexpected threat.

“You know, kid, if I can't persuade you in any other way, then I'll just withdraw my candidacy. Me being senator isn't worth your happiness.”

He's sincere; there's no doubt about it, he would certainly do that – but, between us, he doesn't believe he will have to. He knows that Kurt really wants to see him as senator, not only as his father, but as a good man, a good politician. He also knows that there has to be more to the whole thing than Kurt lets on.

And really, after a while, Kurt asks his father the question he had wanted to ask Rachel.

“Was it worth it?”

You see, Kurt has seen, and felt, too much grief. His mother died when he was eight, and though it was a long time ago, there are still times when something comes up and he suddenly, desperately misses her. But what was almost worse for the little, lost boy he was after they had buried her, and what he thinks about now, was how hard it hit his father. How he would hear him cry at night. How Burt would sometimes turn and smile, and then remember and be utterly dejected. How he stopped talking for days on end. Kurt knows that caring for his son was the only thing that kept Burt upright for a long time after losing his wife, his soulmate.

He also knows that Carole, his father's second wife, visits her late soulmate's grave twice a year, and afterwards locks herself in the bedroom for a week or so and cries, even though she and Burt are perfectly happy with each other.

He remembers holding Rachel, night after night.

Rachel's soulmate had been Carole's son, his own stepbrother, and though Kurt was devastated by his death, it was nothing compared to what Rachel felt when she lost him. He knows she felt like her own life had gone, too; like he had taken all that was beautiful in the world with him.

That's what he means when he asks, “Was it worth it?”

Being with your soulmate, he knows, is supposed to be the one thing to give you unconditional joy, and even he has often found comfort in the thought that somewhere there is one person who, despite everything, is destined to be his, destined to love him. But is this joy, this feeling of home, of belonging, worth the complete heartbreak that follows when you lose them?

How do you feel about a little journey? Because Burt, as an answer, suggests, “Come home for a few days.”

And for once, Kurt doesn't think about work, or about going where any reporters interested in his father could ask him questions.

“Yes,” he says, relieved. He knows that going home won't really fix anything, but to be with his dad, to be a child again for just a few days, sounds about as good as things can get right now.

We should go with him. At the house of Kurt's dad and his wife, things will happen we don't want to miss.

For Blaine has finally managed to talk himself out of his indecisiveness, and he has started to take action. He looks at the guest list for the party where he met Kurt (poor guy, he still doesn't even know his soulmate's name, but we do, so let's call him that, okay?), and he googles a few guys on the list he doesn't recognize the names of, but none of them is him.

Next, he checks the tabloids, and there he is more successful. At a gossip blog, he sees a photo of Rachel Berry, and his heart misses a beat when he recognizes her companion. The caption even offers his name, and, “Kurt Hummel,” he says aloud. “Kurt.”

The tug at his heart gets a little stronger; he can feel, physically, that this name has a meaning to him, and he gets even more determined to find him.

The next step is to find out his address. It isn't quite as easy as he thought, because Kurt isn't in the phone book, nor is his address to be found anywhere online. But Blaine has connections. He calls in a few favors, and it doesn't take too long.

The really hard part comes now. He knows that if he wants a chance not to get the door closed in his face the moment Kurt sees him, he needs to sober up. He is just so used to going through his day half-drunk all the time that the idea is a little hard to grasp, and he needs a moment to remember that most people actually drink water or sodas when they're thirsty, not beer or wine. But he tells himself he can manage for a few days.

He doesn't even go so far as to think Kurt might actually give him a chance to be with him, he only plans on going to him and demand an answer on why Kurt ran. He knows why Kurt _should_ have run, but Kurt doesn't know him; he doesn't know how pathetic, how broken and jaded Blaine is. There must be another reason, and Blaine wants to know what that is.

As soon as  he has his answer and is inevitably rejected again afterwards, he thinks, Blaine will go home and start drinking again and never stop until he has poisoned himself so much that everything - the pain, the pull towards Kurt, his whole life – fades into oblivion. Until then, he can bear it.

But when he finally feels prepared enough, put together enough, to actually go out there and face the final rejection by his soulmate – when he finally stands before Kurt's door, no one opens.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine stands, defeated. It has cost him much to come here, and he knows he won't have the courage to come back. What's more, he knows that once he gets home, he will start drinking, and he won't stop again. He keeps standing there for a minute, leaning his forehead against the door, just to hold off the end for a moment longer, when he hears an excited voice calling his name.

He thinks it's a fan. You can see, though, that it's Rachel. She's come to get Kurt's mail for him, and she has immediately recognized Blaine. She relishes this chance to do something for them, to give Kurt a little push in what she believes is the right direction.

But Blaine doesn't know that. He just sees a female hurrying towards him, and thinks about doing something he has never done before. He wants to run away from a fan. He can't imagine putting on his mask now, concealing everything he knows must show on his face, and smile at her and talk and sign things. He turns to just walk past her, to just ignore her saying his name, but she repeats, “Blaine Anderson,” and when he doesn't react except to walk away a little faster, she calls,

“I know you're here for Kurt.”

He stops dead, and then turns to face her, and as he looks closely, he remembers having seen her before.

We can leave them, we should be on our way. You know what they talk about, you know that Rachel is rooting for them. She tells Blaine that Kurt has gone to Ohio, to his father, and she tells him where to go. She knows Burt won't mind; he is rooting for them, too.

And Blaine hopes. This is easy; he can have his people book a flight and go straight to the airport, wait for however long it takes. He doesn't have to go home, doesn't have to gather the courage all over again. He gets in motion.

Let's go to Kurt now. It's easier for us than for Blaine – we don't have to take a plane, and we don't have to fear to be turned away either. We can watch him for a little before Blaine arrives.

Kurt's been in Ohio, at home, for four days now, and he's slowly starting to think about going back. He still doesn't know what he'll do then, but he knows it'll do him no good to linger here. It doesn't solve anything, and the tugging at his heart has become worse. It doesn't quite hurt, not yet, but whenever he is unoccupied, he can feel it. It's worst when he's trying to sleep. He has trouble enough trying to get his mind to rest; he's still thinking about what happened, what he'll do, what everything means – but now his body can't find rest, either. It feels like a constant itch, somehow, his limbs are restless as if they want to jump out of bed and go find Blaine, wherever he is. His whole body seems to be asking him the questions he can't really answer: Why am I here? Why am I alone? Why am I not with him? Being here somehow...doesn't really help him. He knows that; he's known it before. Still, he had hoped...he doesn't know what. For some kind of revelation.

His father hasn't given him the answer he had hoped for. He has, in fact, said only one thing about his current predicament. “What about Blaine?” he had asked the first evening Kurt had been there. “Don't you think it's been unfair of you to just run away? Can you imagine what he's going through right now?”

Kurt had shaken his head. “He'll be fine. He's like....a rock star. He doesn't need me.”

Burt had just looked at him with eyes that managed to convey both disappointment and understanding. “You never know how it looks like inside a person, kid. You should know that better than anyone. And even if everyone in the world loved him, it wouldn't be able to replace the love his soulmate can give him.”

Kurt has refused to think about this. He's got enough on his hands with himself; he'll go mad if he thinks about Blaine, too. And still – when he lies awake at night because his whole body _aches_ with longing, he can't help but think of him. Of what he has done. If he has already hurt him, if the decision he so fears is already been made because Blaine won’t want him, because he could never forgive him.

If he's destroyed everything.

When he rises on the fifth morning, intending to tell his father he needs to go back home, he finds himself alone in the house. There's no note, no message, only a photo album lying on the coffee table. He immediately suspects that this is supposed to be the answer he had expected from his father, the answer to the question, “Was it worth it?” that he asked before he came to Ohio. He makes himself a cup of coffee and sits down before the book. How can his answer be in a few photos? He opens the first page, looks at the pictures. They are photos of his parents' wedding, not posed ones, but snapshots in varying quality. All of them have something in common, though: his parents radiate joy. There is one particular photo that captures his attention. They are standing before the church, hand in hand. They are not even looking at each other, but are facing in different directions, presumably both talking to guests that are not in the picture. Still, their hands are clasped, and their bodies lean toward each other, and you can see how happy they are, how a part of them is always with the other no matter what they are doing.

He flips through the book, seeing his parents at their wedding, shortly after his birth, at outings and vacations, at perfectly normal situations at home, with him or without him. One of the last pictures he remembers being taken. His mother is sick already, she is lying on the couch, a book in her hands. Eight-year-old Kurt is kneeling on the floor by her feet, drawing and reluctantly looking up to his father who takes the picture. His mother's face is drawn; he remembers her being in almost constant pain by then. But she slightly turns her head towards her husband and smiles, and her eyes shine with love. Even then, in pain, and sickness, and fearing death, she has nothing but love for him.

He knows that not everything was always wonderful with his parents. He can remember them fighting. He remembers hiding in his room and trying to block out the raised voices. But he also remembers them laughing together, dancing while doing the dishes, his mother's hand casually dragging across his father's back whenever she walked past him. He knows his parents have been happy together. He has always known.

But that isn't really an answer to his question.

 

The doorbell rings. As Kurt rises slowly, wondering who it might be, I can tell you that it is Blaine standing before the door, his heart beating fast, asking himself how he will be received. Will Kurt shut the door in his face? Will he be let in only to have to make small talk with Kurt's father?

Burt, though, has been warned by Rachel; he and Carole will be gone the whole day. Burt knows that this whole mess is something Kurt will have to sort out for himself. He has left him the photo album as a sort of visual proof of what Kurt already knows. He can't do more, or at least, he doesn't know how. But he knows that the kind of joy he had with Kurt's mom is worth every heartbreak. What's more, he suspects that nothing is worth the pain you get from denying your soulmate. But Kurt wouldn't believe him if he was just told. This is something Kurt has to figure out for himself.

Although he hasn't consciously noticed it, Kurt has been feeling better these last few hours. This is, of course, because of the fact that Blaine is on his way to meet him – proximity helps, though it won't last if he doesn't recognize Blaine as his soulmate, and soon. As he rises from the couch and makes his way through the corridor to answer the door, though, he notices it – he feels lighter, almost good. So he isn't too surprised when he opens the door and sees his soulmate, although he hasn't expected him to be here and not like this: dressed normally, simply, in jeans and a travel-wrinkled shirt, all alone, looking tired and a little scared. The time of running is over, he realizes and is almost relieved.

“Blaine Anderson,” he says, almost resigned, and opens the door wider to indicate for him to come in.

This is about all that Blaine has dared to hope for.


	6. Chapter 6

It is good to have them in one place, isn't it?

They don't necessarily share that opinion. Though Blaine has gone to all sorts of lengths to meet Kurt, he isn't sure what to say now. He sits awkwardly at the kitchen table, on the edge of his chair, looking around but clearly faking his interest in his surroundings. His attention, his only focus is on Kurt, who clatters around the kitchen, offering beverages and food and looking into cupboards and drawers, anything to avoid looking at his guest.

Finally, Blaine interrupts him. He's tired, so tired, and still scared. He's also determined, and better than he has been for a few days. But his voice sounds weary and sad as he says,

“Kurt, please. I'd like a glass of water if I may, and then I'd like to talk to you.”

There's nothing Kurt can do to postpone this, and it's not his way to dwell on things that can't be changed. So he nods once, squares his shoulders, fills a glass with water and ice and sets it before Blaine. Then he sits opposite him at the table and waits.

But Blaine is silent. You know why he came here: to ask Kurt why he ran away. He hasn't planned for anything further than that, and yet, now that he's here, he can't find the words. Suddenly, he laughs a little and shakes his head.

“You're kind of hard to get hold of,” he says. It's not a question and not a reproach, it's an invitation to talk.

And Kurt, with the same feeling of resignation and choicelessness he had in opening the door to Blaine, accepts the invitation. Hesitantly, but not reluctantly, he starts to talk.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “This is where I go when I don't know where else to go. It's home. I just couldn't wait to get out of here, but now, I keep coming back.”

“It's kind of what I felt when I decided to go looking for you,” Blaine says. “I didn't know where else I'd go. I....I don't want you to believe that I expect anything from you. I know you don't want me, and that's okay. I wouldn't have come here, I would have left you in peace, but...I didn't know what to do, and the feeling got really bad, and....I kind of wanted to ask...”

“Blaine,” Kurt says. “Blaine, stop. I know. I know you want to know why I ran away from you, from our bond. It's your right to ask, and I'm kind of glad you came here to do it. Because you're right, the feeling got really bad.” He laughs a little, then shakes his head. “I just don't know if I can give you an answer.”

Kurt looks at his hands on the table; he misses the flash of hope that passes over Blaine's face when he says he is glad that Blaine came to talk. Even if it is just to stave off the weirdness that had settled in both of them at their continued separation, it is a recognition of their bond, an acknowledgment of what they might be to each other. And Blaine has never even expected that much.

Kurt continues talking, unaware of his soulmate struggling to fight the hope that wants to flood him, to not get his expectations up. “I'm glad that I didn't manage to scare you off completely. I – I wanted to say I'm sorry, Blaine. It was wrong to just run away – it's just...it was more than I could handle then. I don't understand why you don't seem to be angry at me, but still, I'm sorry.”

Blaine shakes his head. He hasn't expected an apology, doesn't even think he'd deserve an apology, but he can't bear Kurt to think he's angry at him. “I'm not angry. I never expected you to want to be with me. I don't blame you for running away, I probably would have done the same.”

Kurt looks up sharply. The words sound genuine, but he can't imagine anybody – and certainly not Blaine – feeling like this about themselves. He suspects the words a ruse, a ploy to make him feel even more guilty than he already does, or to have pity for Blaine. But when he looks into Blaine's eyes, they are honest and don't ask for anything. They are unassuming, not even self-pitying. Blaine is simply stating a fact.

“Why are you talking like that?” Kurt asks. It sounds like an accusation, and he softens his voice. “You have every right to be angry with me. You have every right to expect your soulmate to want to be with you. I'm actually surprised you don't hate me. Half of me expected you to never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you want?” Blaine asks, with a sinking heart. He knows he shouldn't have allowed himself to hope. He has come for an explanation, but it doesn't seem like he will get one. And now, apparently, Kurt wants him to leave. He rises, ready to go. He doesn't have any more fight in him, but his body seems to see things differently. He has to grab the edge of the table when part of his vision becomes black and he threatens to pass out. Still, he offers, “I can leave, if you want me to. I won't bother you again.”

“No!” Kurt nearly yells. He surprises himself by his strong reaction, especially as he discovers that he has jumped up and is half on his way to block the door. He sits down again and briefly buries his face in his hands. “I'm sorry. Please don't go. I don't want you to go.” He drags his hands over his face and shakes his head to clear it. He feels mushy inside; his head barely allows him to get the words out.

Blaine sits down again. He's still wary, but relieved, though he is only vaguely aware of these feelings. Everything is overwhelming to him all of a sudden, and he can't think clearly. “You're confusing me,” he says, though Kurt isn't the only thing that's confusing at the moment.

“I'm sorry,” Kurt says. “I'm not explaining this very well. I feel weird.”

“Me too.” Blaine nods. 'Weird' is a good word. He feels drawn to Kurt, desperate for physical contact they haven't had since Kurt touched his arm at the party. He won't suggest it, though. He still hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that he is even in the same room with him. But his head is unhelpful, and - well, weird. It doesn't allow him to think of anything else.

“Would you...come to the living room with me?” Kurt asks hesitantly. “It might be more comfortable to sit on the couch.” He needs to not have a table between them. He needs closeness. He doesn't allow himself to define that feeling.

Look at them. Look closely. They rise and walk in the direction of the living room, and without realizing, they gravitate towards each other. Soon, they're walking so close to each other they're nearly touching, but neither of them takes that final step. When they reach the living room, Kurt sits down on one end of the couch, and gestures around the room, indicating for Blaine to choose a seat. He can't admit, not even to himself, that he desperately hopes that Blaine won't take one of the armchairs, nor the other end of the couch. It's all he is able to focus on, the hope that Blaine will instead choose to sit right beside him.

Blaine decides he has proven enough self control when he didn't grab Kurt's hand on the short walk here. Now, there's nothing left. It's not really a conscious decision though when he falls down on the couch so close to Kurt he nearly lands on his lap. It's just that there's nothing else he can do.

“I'm sorry,” he says, and with great effort, scoots over an inch or so until only their legs are touching.

“No, it's – it's fine,” Kurt says and resists the urge to hide is burning face behind his hands.

Go look at them. They're sitting on the couch, very close together, but they're taking care that their hands don't touch, awkwardly folding them in their laps. They are in a weird situation. Fate has thrown them together, and though fate surely has their best interests at heart, the fact that none of this is their own choice is something that at least Kurt resents a little. They're punished when they are not together, they have already experienced that. They don't know if they're only happy to be with each other because it considerably lessens the feeling of wrongness they have suffered over the last few days. In any case, the general awkwardness nearly erases the part of being happy. And now? They are together, finally, and they still feel weird. Both of them are aware that this need for physical closeness is nothing of their own doing, and they don't know what to do about it. They are still at the stage of their acquaintance where they want to be sitting at a table and make polite conversation, get to know each other. Kurt at least, although he has seen another side of Blaine now, isn't sure he wants to know Blaine at all. And yet, when Blaine slowly, surreptitiously, slides his hand, palm up, towards the barely-there gap between their legs, Kurt immediately and without thinking about it, puts his hand in Blaine's. Both of them close their eyes and exhale, relieved, when the weird feeling lessens and their minds finally feel like their own again.

“This is better,” Kurt says, and Blaine nods, eyes still closed. Then he opens his eyes. He likes it here; in fact, it's a long time since he felt so content. But this isn't how it's supposed to be, is it? He only came here to ask a question, not to practically cuddle with Kurt on the couch. He sits a little further away and faces Kurt. He doesn't go as far as to release Kurt's hand, though. Not that.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I swear, I only came to talk, not to...” He gestures helplessly at their intertwined hands.

“No,” Kurt says slowly, thoughtfully. “No, I think...I think this is how it's supposed to be. From what I read, and what I remember when my friends found their soulmates...we had that itchy feeling when we were apart...”

“'Itchy' is a slight understatement,” Blaine interrupts. “It hurt.”

“You're right,” Kurt says. “Towards the end, it almost hurt. Anyway, when you were here but we were not...touching, it still felt wrong, in a different way. Like, I couldn't really think, and my head felt like I was going to have a cold. You?”

“Similar,” Blaine agrees. “I was dizzy, and everything was confusing. It got really bad when I thought you wanted me to leave. And then I had this crazy need to touch you, and I still can't bring myself to let go of your hand.” Without realizing it, he squeezes Kurt's hand tight, and Kurt squeezes back, until it hurts and they slightly release their grip. To make up for it, though, Blaine puts his other hand on Kurt's knee.

Kurt looks down and chuckles. “Yes, I can see that.”

Blaine blushes and wants to take his hand away, but Kurt lays his hand over Blaine's. “Leave it,” he says. “It's better this way.”

It's true. If Kurt thinks about it, he is still kind of angry about the whole thing, and in no way is he sure about what his relationship with Blaine is going to be, or if there is to be any kind of relationship. The level of physical intimacy they have now isn't one he would usually engage in with a practical stranger – he rarely touches people except for Rachel and his family – but he can't deny it feels good. Or, more accurately, it's the only thing that prevents him from feeling bad.

“It really is,” Blaine says, after a moment. He sounds surprised. “So now we touch, and it is better. I feel better. But I still don't feel...entirely good.”

“That's the thing,” Kurt says, and he is angry about it and a little scared. “As far as I know, our bodies want us to confirm our soulbond. With a kiss.”


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine's head rucks up sharply. For a moment, if you look closely, you can see the hope in his eyes: he wants this kiss, desperately. But as soon as it appeared, the hope is gone again, suppressed together with every expression as he carefully scrutinizes Kurt's face, trying to find out what he's thinking.

“I don't want to kiss you,” Kurt says. “I'm sorry.”

Kurt is walking a fine line. He has some ideas of how Blaine thinks of himself, though of course not the whole picture. He knows it's in his power to crush Blaine completely. It wouldn't take much to do this, but it's the last thing Kurt wants. But he has to be honest to himself, too, and he really doesn't want to kiss Blaine. He is surprised by Blaine: he likes him as he never expected to, now that he's seeing the person beneath all the glamor. He would probably like him even better if he didn't feel forced to do so. But he doesn't like him well enough to kiss him. And so he tells him, even though it hurts him like a wound when he sees the flicker of light in Blaine's eyes go out, swallowed by despair and the resignation he knows so well by now.

 

Hope is his enemy, Blaine knows that. He scarcely allows himself to hope; most of the time, he doesn't even know what he should hope for. That has changed with Kurt, and it makes him horribly vulnerable. He understands being rejected, he doesn't blame him. Yet, every time Kurt does it, with every dashed hope, Blaine crashes to the ground, and at some point, he will shatter completely. In some ways, he longs to be at that point, to just keep lying there, to never rise again, to be hurt beyond any pain.

But he isn't there yet. He rises and dusts his knees, so to speak, and takes care to hide the disappointment and doubt and despair that want to show in his face, and he says,

“Okay. Do you – do you want me to leave?” He doesn't really think that Kurt wants him to be gone, he just asks to be sure. He has that much, the almost-certainty that Kurt wants him to stay, even if he doesn't want to do what their soulbond demands and what most people accept as the normal way to proceed now.

Kurt just shakes his head; he knows that Blaine was just making sure. “I want to talk to you. You deserve an explanation, and – I think I'd like to get to know you a little better.” He hesitates, then asks, “It's – bearable, isn't it? The feeling? Even if we don't – kiss?”

Blaine nods. “We should keep touching, though. At least if you want me to understand what you're telling me, or speak in coherent sentences.” He laughs a little. “I think – I think it will get worse, though, in time, if we don't – you know. But for now, it's okay.”

They settle on the couch, sitting cross-legged opposite each other, their knees and feet touching, holding each other by both hands. It's a weird position, but it's all Kurt is ready for. He won't go into a full cuddle, but he's okay with holding Blaine's hands. He likes him, after all, and he would like to help him somehow.

They sit for a while. No one is saying anything, and they're not looking at each other. They just sit there, holding hands, and unconsciously, Blaine starts stroking Kurt's knuckles with his thumbs. Kurt doesn't really register the soft caress, but it seems to give him strength to finally start talking. He exhales shakily, the starts talking.

“I'm sorry I ran from you,” he says again. “I shouldn't have done that. I can't imagine how that must have made you feel.”

Blaine starts to speak. You can see he won't offer to tell how that made him feel; he just wants to placate Kurt, to say that it's okay. Kurt can see that too, and so he shushes Blaine before he can say anything. Nothing he could say would make Kurt believe it's okay, anyway.

“Please let me talk?” he asks. “I'm not sure what I want to say, but if you want some kind of explanation, you've got to let me do it now.”

Then he is silent. For a long moment, we have to wait for him to speak again; then he takes a deep breath and starts.

“Do you know who my father is?” he asks.

Blaine starts shaking his head, but then he hesitates, and thinks. He used to be an active fighter for gay rights, back when he could still find it in himself to care. He makes the connection.

“It's Burt Hummel, isn't it?” He doesn't fight the big smile; he used to admire him very much.

Kurt nods. “He's on his way to becoming senator now, hopefully. But he is closely watched. People...watch his every move, waiting for the one mistake that could bring him down. And I – I can't be that mistake. I can't _make_ that mistake. People don't know I'm gay, not for sure. I'm sure you know what people still say about us, you must have read enough of that about yourself. I'm so scared that they'll use me against him, and if I 'm together with you, and you're so...so...”

His voice trails uncertainly. He adds adjectives in his head that he doesn't say for fear of hurting Blaine's feelings: Out there. Flamboyant. Flashy. Proud. Famous. Blaine, too, completes the sentence in his head, but the adjectives he chooses are different: Broken. Jaded. Unworthy; unloved. Unlovable.

And Kurt somehow notices this. He can't read Blaine's mind, of course, but he can feel Blaine's thoughts. He draws him a little closer and squeezes his hands.

“No. Not that. I don't know what you're thinking I wanted to say, but it's nothing bad, really. I just meant...you're noticeable. One can't really help but notice you, and I have always tried to...remain under the radar. I don't do things that will be noticed. Or people,” he adds, and they both have to laugh.

 

Blaine closes his eyes, leans his head back against the backrest of the couch and listens to Kurt talking. He is unbelievably tired; after all, he has spent the night at the airport because there was no free flight and he was afraid to go home. He is in no danger of falling asleep, though, not yet. There is too much going on in his head, and he has difficulties sorting it all out. Surprisingly, though, the feelings are mostly good. The words he added to Kurt's sentence were real, they are the first words that come to his mind when he thinks about himself. But the fact that Kurt knew what was going on with him, that he tried to make him feel better, is unbelievable to him. He can already feel himself saving that feeling, cherishing it, put it away for later when he needs the knowledge that somebody cares for him. It makes him feel warm inside, and he can't help but allow a feeling to rise in him that is very close to hope, just stronger: determination.

He came here only for an explanation, but now his goal changes. He wants this man, this beautiful man who is so reluctant to let him close. He wants the connection, the bond, wants it like he as never wanted anything before.

He opens his eyes and concentrates on Kurt, who is still talking about his father. It won't be easy, he will have to make sacrifices, and the scariest part of all is perhaps that he will have to be completely honest. But he will at least try. He knows fate is on his side.

 

Kurt keeps talking about his dad until his words run out. He is aware, though, that he is mostly stalling, because this, this excuse he has maintained for so long, has stopped to feel true. It is now something he used to believe, rather than something he believes now. So he takes a deep breath and looks at Blaine, who has his head rested against the back of the couch and has dark circles under his eyes, but is completely focused on Kurt. So he takes another deep breath and steels himself for the hard part, the real thing.

He talks about his mom, and how his dad took losing her. About helplessly listening to Rachel crying night after night, and not being able to do more than hold her and let her cry. About the fear that accepting his bond with Blaine and then losing him would be nothing he could survive. And he talks about the newly-found anger he feels over the fact that something he had no say in at all, something fate decreed for him, is able to take over his life so completely, can change his feelings to make him want things he has never wanted before. He talks about how much he hates feeling like he has no choice, and the newest fear, that he only has since he got to know Blaine, and that is getting stronger and stronger: that now that he knows what he would be missing, he won't be able to stop himself, to stop the connection he already feels between them.

After a long time, he stops talking. He has grown hoarse, and it is dark outside. He vaguely remembers hearing the key in the door; his dad and Carole must have come home and gone straight upstairs to their bedroom. And Blaine – Blaine looks haggard and pale, his face drawn from weariness. Kurt himself feels like he could fall asleep any moment.

Blaine confirms the thought when he yawns and then says, “There is still so much to say. So many things I want to tell you – but can it wait till tomorrow? I have to go to sleep, I can't even think straight anymore. I should go and find a hotel, and meet you tomorrow.”

Kurt nods to the first part of Blaine's speech, and then quickly shakes his head to the last.

“Don't go,” he says. “I agree that we should sleep, but I can't imagine to stop touching you. I think this might be the first night in ages I will really be able to sleep, but only if you stay.”

They are both too tired to make this awkward. Blaine just nods gratefully, and they stagger upstairs to Kurt's room, still holding hands. Kurt briefly excuses himself to the bathroom to change, and Blaine undresses to boxers and undershirt, and then they crawl under the covers. Blaine is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

We will leave them in a moment. It is late, I'm sure you are tired, too. There's just one last thing you should see.

Kurt watches Blaine for a moment with a small smile; Blaine looks so young when he sleeps. Then he settles in close to Blaine, closes his eyes and, without making a conscious decision, presses a small kiss on Blaine's cheek.

And he is struck by lightning.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine opens his eyes and has time for a confused “Wha-”, before he clutches Kurt as the waves of their soulbond hit them. Kurt clutches back so hard he'll have bruises on his arms tomorrow, and for a second or so, they just cling to one another.

It's more intense than any orgasm he's ever had, and Kurt finally understands why new soulmates are strongly encouraged to go somewhere private for their first kiss, although, apparently, a peck on the cheek suffices. It also only takes a second, and it isn't really pleasurable, even without the misgivings he has about soulbonds and theirs in particular.

After, they lie panting, and it's not till a few minutes later that Blaine finally asks, “What just happened?”

“I think...we just confirmed our soulbond,” Kurt answers, and now he has to admit to kissing Blaine, something which he absolutely denied having any wish to do just hours before, _and_ while Blaine was asleep. Granted, it was only on the cheek, but still, it embarrasses him, and being embarrassed makes him angry. Everything about everything makes him angry because he has accidentally confirmed a soulbond he doesn't really want, and it is the kind of anger he can't ignore. It is the kind of anger that demands he rise and punch someone or throw things, but he is not a violent person, and so he reverts to something he has always excelled in: slashing someone with his tongue. Unfortunately, the only person there is Blaine, and even if he isn't really to blame, he becomes the target of Kurt's attack.

“Fuck it,” Kurt says. “Fuck everything! Why did you have to come here? None of this would have happened if you had just stayed where you belonged! I don't want this! I never wanted any of this!”

This isn't true. Kurt has spend more time perhaps than most people daydreaming about his Prince Charming, his soulmate, coming to sweep him off his feet, to sweep him away from the oppression and small-mindedness of his hometown, and later away from the loneliness of his life in his self-imposed Rapunzel's tower.

But, well. Everything is much easier when you only imagine it. So let's forgive Kurt this outburst, okay? Even if it's unfair. Even if we better shouldn't look into Blaine's eyes.

Who just discovers that, despite everything, he still has almost unlimited potential for being hurt.

His first reaction, though? He is _pissed_. He knows that this isn't his fault, hell, he wasn't even the one who kissed anybody in the first place! He sits up, then he stands up, and he starts gathering his clothes. But as he starts putting on his pants, he already knows: of course Kurt is angry. Kurt has every right to be angry about being in a soulbond with Blaine. Anybody would be angry about this. And as fast as this, in spite of the hope and the determination and the _want_ he felt just a few hours before, the old, familiar feeling sets in: that nobody could want, could _love,_ someone as... _nothing_ as him.

And he continues dressing himself as Kurt continues yelling, and then stops yelling and starts crying, and he turns around once, says, “I'm sorry,” and then he leaves.

Blaine staggers downstairs, and outside, and then he stands outside the door, not really knowing how he got there, nor knowing what to do now. He wants to – desperately longs to drink himself into oblivion, but he can't do that here. He wants to be in his bedroom at home, and never come out again. He thinks about getting into the car he rented to get here from the airport and driving home, however long it may take, but he knows he'll never make it the way he is now, with everything he sees blurry from tears and lack of sleep. Flying will be faster, anyway. He'll go to Columbus again the next morning and book the first flight home he can get. He tries to do it right away from his phone, but the letters blur in front of his eyes, and so he lies down on the backseat of the rental, right there in Kurt's driveway, and sleeps.

 

After some time, Kurt stops crying and gradually comes to register his surroundings. The first thing he notices is that it's quiet. His own ragged breathing is the only thing he hears. Which leads to the second thing he notices: Blaine is gone. He has screwed up once again, only this time he hasn't run, he has done something far worse: he has driven him away. How many times can he do that before Blaine will stop coming back?

The last thing he notices is that he no longer feels weird. His head is, when the last of the crying has subsided, completely clear, for the first time in he doesn't know how long. Instead, there is a presence in his mind, an awareness of Blaine that's unobtrusive but distinct. It doesn't tell Kurt where he is or what he's doing, but makes him aware of the misery that pervades Blaine's whole being. It is edged with self-hatred and despair and not so different from the way Kurt himself is feeling at the moment. It does fill him with a sense of urgency though, with the feeling that he has to find Blaine now or it will be too late, so he hurriedly gets dressed and rushes outside, calling Blaine's name as he frantically runs down the sidewalk first one way and then the other. He doesn't see much, and nobody answers his calls except the neighbor's dog that starts barking and will soon wake up the whole street.

Kurt realizes then that he knows neither Blaine's phone number nor his address nor anything, really, so if he doesn't find him now it'll be very difficult to find him later ( _if it isn't too late then_ , a little voice in his head says that he quickly pushes away). And he stands there, at the end of his driveway, not ready to give up but not knowing what to do, and he nearly leans against the unfamiliar car in weariness and resignation before he really notices it. He peeks inside, and his relief when he dimly sees Blaine's sleeping form is so great that his knees give way and he slumps down outside the car. Then he tries the door, and when it opens, he crawls inside.

Blaine looks peaceful, almost, were it not for the traces of tears down his cheek that Kurt now follows with a hesitant, barely-there touch of his finger. He settles in the tiny space in front of the backseat, makes himself as comfortable as possible, and though he feels as if he has lost the right to do so, he lays his head on Blaine's shoulder. He closes his eyes.

 

You should go to sleep, too. You have only a few hours.

 

It is a short, uncomfortable night. Looking for warmth, they gravitate towards one another as far as they can with Blaine on the backseat and Kurt cramped in the space between it and the driver's seat. But Blaine is closer to Kurt now, so close that the only thing that stops him from falling is Kurt's head and shoulders that are propped against his chest. Blaine has the imprint of a seat belt on his cheek, and Kurt's neck will hurt for days.

Blaine is the one to wake first, when it is not quite light outside and it is so cold their breath fogs the windows. At first he doesn't even open his eyes, although the situation he's in, cold and so uncomfortable there isn't a part of his body that doesn't hurt, doesn't really invite to linger, and he is aware that the disorientation he feels isn't going to get better if he can't see. He just wants to stay a moment longer in his dream, some vague, wonderful impression of Kurt looking for him, coming to him, accepting him. Loving him.

There's something heavy on his chest, and he doesn't know what until he reaches over and his fingers touch thick, silky hair. That makes him open his eyes at last, and when he sees Kurt's sleeping face, a small crease of discomfort between his brows, his heart gives a small, painful squeeze.

As he keeps stroking Kurt's hair and, despite the discomfort, moves as little as possible so as not to wake him, he realizes he's still angry. He's surprised at that; he hasn't realized there was still enough sense of self-worth in him that he can manage to feel anger on his own behalf – but it feels good. It actually feels good to be angry at Kurt, at his soulmate, for yelling at him and being unfair and driving him away after managing to make him feel good, and hopeful, and almost _happy_ and could he please, please finally make up his fucking mind?

There's a part of his mind that tells him, _but you're you, you're a drunk without self-esteem, he has made it clear he doesn't want to be with you, and why should he?_ , but for once, he shuts it down quickly. Because he hasn't had a drink in five days, and Kurt has definitely sent mixed signals, and being angry still feels good.

He has never stopped stroking Kurt's hair, and when he realizes it, his thoughts become friendlier. _Because he is stroking Kurt's hair_. And that means Kurt is here. Kurt has come after him, Kurt has spent the night cramped in a tiny space in a freezing car just to be with him.

That means...so much. So much. He lifts his head and presses a kiss in Kurt's hair, ironically aware that this, a kiss while the other one is sleeping, is what started this whole mess in the first place. But who could have known that a kiss on the cheek is enough to confirm a soulbond? Which – -  he is in a soulbond, he realizes suddenly. No matter what comes after this, no matter what happens now, he has a soulmate and a confirmed connection, and nobody, not even himself, can take that away from him.

But despite that, there are things that need to happen. They need to sort things out, and he owes it to Kurt to tell him the truth. He is still a mess, his life is a mess, his career is – if his publicist is to believe, probably over by now, and anyway he is pretty sure he doesn't want it anymore. Kurt needs to know all of this if he is to make a decision.

Blaine doesn't need to make a decision. He could be happy for the rest of his life just lying here, stroking Kurt's hair, listening to him breathing, if -

Well. The world doesn't stop turning just for him, and they have a lot to talk about, and he is freezing, really needs to pee and his left foot has gone to sleep.

So he wakes Kurt.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thought Kurt has as a hand on his shoulder rouses him from a drowse he is surprised he managed, is that he'll do anything to make Blaine forgive him. The second is that he is surprised by the first, because he didn't know he cared so much for Blaine's forgiveness. But he does. In fact, he cares so much for Blaine, and for once, he cherishes the feeling instead of pushing it away. Apparently, spending all night in a freezing car, stricken with guilt and listening to the breathing of your soulmate whom you hurt so bad he ran away can spark a catharsis. Kurt probably spent more time crying than sleeping, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Blaine, but he has come to a conclusion. Sort of, at least.

But first, he has to get Blaine to forgive him.

Slowly, he turns, taking into account his aching body and the slight fear he has of looking into Blaine's eyes.

“Blaine, I'm so sorry,” he starts, even before he can actually look at him, but Blaine interrupts.

“Before you say anything, can we please go inside so I can pee and get warm? Please?”

Finally, Kurt looks at Blaine and he has a wry smile on his face and a seat belt imprint on his cheek and dark circles under his eyes and his hair is sticking out in all directions, and his mundane request is so at odds with everything Kurt is feeling that he can't help but laugh. But he opens the car door and stiffly climbs out and offers a hand to Blaine, who takes it without looking into his eyes. They walk inside, holding hands and unconsciously rolling out kinks from necks and shoulders.

How are you? I know your night was short, too. But are you up for a little bit more? I think – I hope – they will have sorted themselves out soon.

Let's follow them inside, where Blaine disappears into the guest bathroom and Kurt runs into Burt on the stairs.

“Everything okay?” Burt asks, a little worried about the rings under Kurt's red-rimmed eyes and the general puffiness that indicates he has been crying.

“Yes.” Kurt says, a little too quickly. He's not sure everything's okay, after all, but he knows there's no need for Burt to protect Kurt from Blaine. _More likely the other way round_.

“Yes, we're fine. We're still.....figuring things out. Give us some space?”

“Sure,” Burt agrees, gives Kurt a pat on the shoulder and walks away, into his bedroom.

Kurt takes a quick shower and then, dressed in clothes he deems appropriate for serious talks (they're comfortable, but also make him feel good. He needs the pickup, and he doesn't want to be distracted from their conversation by worrying how he looks like), goes downstairs and makes coffee. Not long after, Blaine emerges. He has freshened up, changed his clothes and gelled his hair into submission. He feels a lot better, a feeling that increases when he smells the coffee. Coffee is like liquid happiness right now; alone the expectation of the warmth running through his body makes him believe that somehow, everything will work out.

But as soon as he actually enters the kitchen, awkwardness sets in. Neither knows what to say, so Blaine accepts his coffee from Kurt with a nod, and sits down at the table and stares into the steam rising from the cup as if his answers were in it. He wants to ask Kurt to make up his mind, but on the other hand, Kurt doesn't really know him. He can't expect him to accept him, their bond, when he doesn't know what he's getting into. So he sips at his coffee and briefly closes his eyes to savor the warmth and the feeling of hope, of belonging, he imbibes with it, and then he starts talking. He starts with the hardest part, the part he hasn't even really admitted to himself.

“I'm a drunk, Kurt. I might be an alcoholic, and if not, I'm on my way to becoming one.”

Kurt thinks back to the party where they first met, to the casual way Blaine downed drink after drink after drink, and he isn't surprised. He is (and he's aware that this seems like his default mode) scared, again, and surprised by how much it affects him. He never, not even for a moment, thinks that it isn't his problem. It shows him, more than anything before, that Blaine has a place in his life. That there's no going back.

What he says, though, is,

“I can't be the one to save you. You – you can't expect that of me.”

And shit, he has done it again, hasn't he? Why is he always rejecting Blaine?

But if you look closely, you can see that his behavior towards Blaine is an exact reflection of his feelings. He sits across from Blaine, giving him all his attention. He holds Blaine's hand in one of his own, and the other lies, palm up, on the table, offering comfort if Blaine wants it. His whole posture says, “You can tell me anything.” But his words say, “I won't be there for you.”

And isn't that fucked up? Kurt thinks so. He won't blame Blaine if he rises and leaves, without another word. But Blaine smiles a very small smile and lays his hand into Kurt's, squeezing lightly, taking and at the same time offering reassurance.

“I don't. I know you can't save me.” That sounds kind of hopeless, but he doesn't mean it that way, not now. “What you could be, if you wanted to – you could be a reason for me to save myself.”

You see, Blaine, too, used to dream of his very own Prince Charming. But he never wanted him to sweep him away, trying to pull him onto his horse and only ending up dragging him around towards his own goals. Blaine wanted him to dismount and stand beside him, move into a direction they both chose, face everything together.

“Am I...am I the only thing that could help you do that?” Kurt asks in a small voice. He doesn't want the pressure, doesn't need the pressure, doesn’t need someone else's problems on top of his own. And yet, Blaine is his _soulmate_. That means something, even to him, and he can't imagine just leaving him to sort out his life alone. He knows, subconsciously, that if he gives them a chance, Blaine will always be there for him, to the point of forgetting himself. Doesn't he deserve someone who would do the same for him?

Kurt has made up his mind about them, but he still silently asks Fate what she thought when she decided to take him with all of his baggage and pair him up with someone who has even more. But he knows it's too late for doubts and fears and misgivings. Blaine is here now; they found each other, and despite everything, he won't let him go again.

He doesn't say anything, but he squeezes Blaine's hands. It has to be enough for now.

Blaine considers his answer. “There are other things,“ he says, and he is almost surprised. But it's true, there are things he values about life, things – people – he loves. He has almost forgotten, but they're still there, under the surface, deep but retrievable. Songs in his head he never writes down because he knows they won't sell, but he _could_ write them down, play them just for fun. Friends he has pushed away because he didn't want them to see how much he had changed. It hasn't been so long, maybe they'd give him a second chance.

“Maybe you could help me find them again?” he asks, and he can't keep his voice from sounding hopeful.

And Kurt smiles tentatively, because yes, he can do that.

For a while, they just sit there and smile, because for the first time, and without knowing exactly why, they have a feeling they can work together to make everything better.

“You'll get help, though, for the drinking?” Kurt asks, because he really doesn't think that is something they should tackle on their own.

Blaine nods. “You make me want to.”

“I can help you escape the press,” Kurt says with a little laugh. He has years of experience avoiding reporters, but he knows that his method – just don't go outside– isn't really realistic for Blaine. “You don't want that kind of publicity; I'm sure it would be bad for your career.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, a little surprised – hasn't he said that before? Because if he has Kurt, if Kurt really decides to be with him, he can at last find the courage to tell his producer, his publicist, his benefactress and promoter – to tell them all he'll quit. He won't dance to their tune anymore. He'll do it his own way or not at all.

“I'm giving up my career,” he says matter-of-factly. “And before you say anything, I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because of you, yes, because you make me want to find the good things in my life again. My career isn't one of them. I hate my career.”

“But you love making music. I saw you sing, it draw me to you, it was unmistakeable.” Kurt remembers himself in the audience, mesmerized by this strange, unhappy man who made everything more alive with his music.

“I do love making music. But not the way I do now. Um...I was playing in a bar, a few years ago. I was just this wide-eyed, hopeful kid then, you know? And in the audience, there was this...this woman who was known for finding talent and promoting them, and she liked me. She took me under her wing, and she kind of...took everything over, you know? And I let it happen, I was so dazzled by her. I remember that once I told her I wanted to be her when I grew up. She is formidable, hard to say no to, the kind you don't want to disappoint. She...at first she wanted me to go back in the closet, but I refused. It was the only thing I ever refused, but everything else...I just let her mold me into something that would be successful, and somehow, without even realizing it, I became...everything I never wanted to be. Everything I am now, and I hate what I am now. I don't want to be that way. I couldn't cope with that, so I started drinking, and then I detested myself even more, and...you know. Meeting you is the first thing that made me hope I could turn everything around. I'll never stop making music, but giving up my career is really no sacrifice.” He stops talking, a little embarrassed, and smiles. “The only thing is, she's a little scary, and she won't be happy.”

“I'll help,” Kurt says, smiling genuinely now. “I'm good at pissing people off.”

Blaine giving up his career actually really helps Kurt be happy with the decision he made this night in the car: that he will give them a chance, if Blaine still wants him. He'd never even thought of asking Blaine to do that, but him being famous was one of the things that bothered him most. It's hard enough for him to imagine to actually acknowledge to everyone that his soulmate is a man, without having that 'everyone' be the whole world (although that is exaggerating somewhat; Blaine's fame isn't at that stage yet).

He figures that if Blaine can try to give up the things that make him unhappy, Kurt can try that, too. Give up his fear, his reluctance to ever rely on anyone but himself, his doubt that good things actually happen.

He rises, then sits down again on the chair nest to Blaine, takes his hands. His voice is sure when he says,

“We're soulmates. We do it together.”

It's acceptance, it's willingness, it's love, and the joy on Blaine's face shows he knows it.

“We may be soulmates, but we never actually kissed,” he says, teasing.

Kurt's face lights up, and he leans in and presses his lips to Blaine's.

There's no lightning, and no fireworks. Nothing extraordinary happens. It's just a kiss, lingering and tender and confirming, and it's all the better for it.

It won't be easy for them. They will work together to get better, but it won't happen over night. There will be happiness for them, and peace, and joy in each other. There will be doubt, and bumps in the road that are so high they can't see the other side, but they will get past them. They'll make it.

Let us leave them. They will kiss a long time, and they'll talk some more, and they'll go home and start their new lives, but you have seen everything I wanted to show you.

Thanks for coming along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thanks for indulging me with this strange story, and thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos.


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